


Nephilim

by rosie_berber



Series: An Assortment of Destiel Ficlets and Codas [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12x08 coda, M/M, Metatron's Spell, Nephilim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 14:25:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9328754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosie_berber/pseuds/rosie_berber
Summary: A brief little coda about what would have gone through Castiel's head when he heard about Lucifer's bundle of joy on the way.





	

* * *

 

There were few earthly pleasures Castiel enjoyed more than a good cup of coffee. As a human, he appreciated its bitter taste. His grace back intact, he still relished the strong aroma, still adored the comfortable warmth radiating from the mug - the one with the small chip in it that Dean said was  _ his. _

 

But as of late, every coffee break seems cursed. Because it is just as he is about to sit down for what Dean had deemed to be a very necessary caffeine fix when it happens. That frequency he hasn’t heard since - well, since Dean’s soul was condemned to Hell, all those years ago. Celestial voices resounding in dischord, in terror.

 

The room around him seems to shake and his vision starts to blur as the piercing tone reverberates off concrete walls. Waves of black come crashing over the cup’s edges, scalding his fingers. And then - only seconds later - two mugs shatter into fragments as they collide with the bunker’s floor.

 

His and Dean’s.

 

Dean.

 

It is Dean who pulls him from this horror, his hand quickly finding itself on Castiel’s forearm, as if to help anchor him to this world. Calloused fingers caressing canvas.

 

That hand is still grasping Castiel - holding him steady - when one word rises above the cacophony.

 

_ Nephilim.  _

 

It was a word - a reality - that Castiel despised more than almost any other.

 

He tells Sam and Dean it is because of the power latent in the nascent offspring. It is easy to convince them that the spawn of Satan is a thing to be feared.

 

But the truth - the truth could be situational.

 

In this situation, Castiel resolves to divulge only the most relevant information for the Winchesters.

 

Because they had enough on their plates. What - with the President of the United States being the current place of residence for Satan and all.

 

So it wasn’t exactly of import to them that the announcement of the Nephilim - it did not simply offend Castiel’s heavenly sensibilities. Was not a matter of propriety, of the natural order of things and abominations.

 

No, Castiel was wrestling with something far more personal, perhaps even petty.

 

It’s just that - the nephilim - it was hard not to remember. 

 

Metatron’s spell.

 

_ The heart of a Nephilim. _

_ The bow of a Cupid. _

_ The grace of an Angel. _

 

The Winchesters knew the ingredients and knew the outcome - there was no need for them to ask follow up questions.

 

If they had, they might have realized that the spell was not supposed to be a curse for Castiel’s brothers and sisters - but rather, a union between two of God’s greatest creations. That falling was a matter of perspective. Because there were some things - people - feelings - worth falling for. That humanity, in all of its brokenness, in all its frailty, was indeed their Father’s masterpiece. And so the union was always an option - for the distinction between angel and man to cease to exist - but it could not happen until all the pieces fell into place.

 

_ The life created by the two species. _

_ The tool which fated human souls to be fully bound to one another. _

_ The essence of an angel in love with a human. _

 

But of course, Metatron took it upon himself to cast the angels out of heaven. It was less evolution than a near genocide. In the past three years, Castiel relied on the solace that it could not happen again. He had exterminated the last of that accursed offspring  - his grace could no longer serve as a weapon of war. 

 

There were few earthly pleasures Castiel enjoyed more than a good cup of coffee. But there was only a single thing on earth with which his entire essence was bound, irrevocably. A human whose name was scrawled across the entire surface of his heart.

  
The same human who insisted they head off towards Indianapolis. To hunt down the Devil together, or die trying.


End file.
